Last wish
by SaltwaterGarden
Summary: He's dying. As he stumbles down the sidewalk he realizes that all these years have done nothing for the world, nothing for him. He regrets everything... If only he could have known.


_His eyes were fixed on the bullet hole eight centimeters away from his head. Wide, panicked eyes. He saw how close to death he'd come. The worst part was that he had no idea what would come next. Until now he had had things to give him confidence, to help him along. Now that everyone here was turned against him, would no longer listen to him... he would die. In humiliation, he would perish. It became insufferably plain to him, and he knew that he had to get out of this place. If he was going to die—and he knew he was—this wasn't the last place he wanted to see._

Light Yagami stared out the window of his high school. Though the subject his teacher was discussing was one of great fascination to him, he had developed a certain feeling of ennui in any case. Hearing something you agree with and pursue even several times became boring. Suddenly, something outside the window caught his eye.

_No. It wasn't supposed to end here, he thinks, stumbling down the pavement. No, it was never supposed to be like this, wasn't going to. I thought I would live happily, thought that eventually it would all work out, that others would see and agree with me. That my purpose would be clear. But it isn't. It seems stupid. Pointless. He looks up at the sky. The world is so big, he thinks. Why did I give up so much for this? I would never be able to change the minds of others to suit myself. Only a child would think that way. A naïve child._

"Death Note." Light Yagami looks down at the book at his feet and bends over to pick it up. "The human whose name is written in this notebook will die," he reads. "Pff." He laughs and puts it into his bag. What else could he do? It wasn't like it was the sort of thing to go into the lost and found. When he got to a trash can he could throw it away. He begins walking home from school.

_He sees something, ahead. No, someone. Not a member of the task force—though he can hear them behind him, too, running a few hundred yards in back of him. No, this is someone else. A boy. The boy is in high school. He's walking home, probably, after a club or after-school meeting. He reads as he walks, but at the same time sure of where he is going. So sure, the man thinks. He was sure like that, once. If only he knew that it was pointless then. If only he knew that it all would come to suffering. The man almost laughs as the boy walks right past him, not even looking at his bloodstained clothes, not noticing his limp. Sucked into his own world, he thinks. It's too bad nobody else lives in your world, you pitiful kid. When push comes to shove they're different than you; they see everything clearly that you couldn't._

Light lies on his bed to rest before he starts homework. The walk back from school is pretty long, and he's tired. He glances at the notebook, which he's set down on the desk. What a stupid idea, he thinks. Killing people with a notebook? It's the kind of thing you read about in horror stories for little kids. A murder notebook, kill anyone, any enemy, any person. The kind of thing that you just get curious about... That notebook's pretty elaborate as cheesy hoaxes go...

_He arrives at the doorway. He sways for a minute, knocked about by the faintest of breezes, before picking up the pace again. He wanted to go farther than this, but that's impossible now. The graveyard is farther down into the city. That won't work now. He'll just go up the takes a few cautious steps up. One step. To think that a half-hour ago he was still so sure of his success. Another. He could have prevented everything... he might have still won. But won what? He would have been the arrogant tyrant in a world of slaves. He remembers someone's words, from long ago. "You are evil." That voice rings clearly now, even though the speaker has been dead... Dead for so long. The man takes another step up the stairs, but suddenly his injured leg gives out underneath him and he collapses. He tries to stand again but only falls again onto his back. It hurts like hell but he makes no noise. He's reminded of a moment, long ago, when someone would have caught him. He thinks that if only he would have known, than maybe that person would still be here. They could have spent a lifetime together, if he hadn't been so caught up in the child's fantasy world that he thought he could create._

Light stands and takes a few steps over to the desk. He thinks, This is the kind of thing that you want to try out, just once...

_If only I could have known back then. _

Light reaches out for a pen, thinking. In case it's real... it couldn't be somebody he knows... he can't believe he thinks that it might actually work. But just in case. It should be someone who won't be missed. Someone it's okay to kill. He reaches for the remote and picks it up, turning on the news. I'm getting too serious about this, he thinks, laughing at himself. There's a kidnap story on television.

_I might have had a chance... if only I had given it up. Seen what was coming, known my fate. Maybe things would have been different. I could have had a lifetime of opportunities. Maybe it wouldn't have been exciting—no, it wouldn't have been. But only a child needs fantasy adventures._

The man on TV's name is displayed on the screen. Light reaches out and picks up a pen. He checks the ink, clicks the nib out, and presses it gently to the notebook's page.

Terror.

A thousand images flood his mind. The death of millions of people. People scream as cars crash into bridges, as men and women clutch their chests and fall. Stabbing, shooting, a thousand lifetimes' worth of fear and death. All playing before him. People hunting him down, and each time he only escapes by the skin of his teeth. Each time, he loses something. And one time. One time where he lost the one person that could have, would have trusted him. Where he kills them. That loss is followed by millions more. People who don't deserve to die, people who don't understand what's happening. People live in fear. Men, women, children die. Policemen, soldiers, politicians are felled trying to save the people. Trying to stop a madman who is blinded by an imaginary utopia that only exists for him. A madman who has killed people who hate him—and people who love him. It doesn't matter—they'll all die.

Light Yagami screams and clutches his head. He falls to the floor, tears leaking from his eyes. Make it stop, he thinks. God, god, make it stop. In a daze, he rises from the floor and grabs the notebook. Furious and frightened, he rips it down the middle seam, down into halves, then quarters, then eighths. He throws it into the trash. But that isn't enough. His parents still aren't home. He takes the trash can out of his room, down the steps, through the kitchen into the yard. On the way he grabs the lighter that his family uses to light candles.

As the pages burn, a relief washes over him. He's not entirely sure what just happened, but those images are still painted into his mind. A thousand shots. A burning church.

Bells.

_Bells._

_He sighs. He knows that he's dying, his heart is stopping beat by convulsive beat. It hurts, but no worse than he hurt already. His eyes search for something ahead of him, something that he knows will be his last image of this Earth. _

_He notices that someone is standing in front of him. They say nothing. Black hair falls in front of their face, obscuring their eyes, but they are still recognizable. _

_"When humans die, they become nothingness." He remembers those words, so why on earth is... is this man here? He was dead. _

_Nothing makes sense. Nothing will ever make sense, the man realizes with a last sigh of relief. Nothing is going to happen now._

_He closes his eyes._


End file.
